What I Am
by Ras1
Summary: Hurt/Comfort, Romance Tracy/Vachon Vachon turns to Tracy for help with some injuries, Nick isn't exactly approving of their new relations.


Title: What I Am  
  
Author: Ras  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Characters: Tracy/Vachon  
  
Summary: Pure Torture/Comfort. After a close encounter, Vachon finds himself turning to Tracy for help. But will she mend his injuries or will her disgust with what he is cause her to turn him away?  
  
Disclaimer: None of the Characters are mine. I'm just borrowing them to increase appreciation of the show. No need to sue.  
  
Part 1/?  
  
It was the intensity of the banging on her door that made Tracy rush to answer it. She was tired after working all night, and had no desire to speak to anyone at 6 AM. Still, she hurried to the door to stop the panicked pounding.  
  
"Vachon!" Tracy exclaimed in terror at the man in front of her desperately trying to shield his face from the breaking dawn with his jacket. The smoke rising from beneath the leather and the faintest hint of boils rising on his face revealed that he was doing a very poor job of protecting himself. "Oh my God, get inside!"  
  
He gratefully rushed into the sanctuary of her apartment. "I need . . . shelter," he begged between heavy breaths.  
  
"Of course, of course you can stay," she affirmed. Even seeing him there in full vampire form, fangs fully extended, eyes a golden amber did not add the slightest hint of doubt to her voice.  
  
"The windows," he hissed, "Cover the windows."  
  
Tracy quickly realized that her frilly, white curtains wouldn't block the sun's rays from the room, no matter what she did to them. Tracy was a creature of the light. She enjoyed the way the sunlight sprinkled through the curtains early in the morning and had never really considered that blinds might serve a more practical purpose. "We'll put you in the closet, the sun won't get you there," she declared as she escorted her nightly friend to the darkness of her bedroom closet. "Better?" she asked after gently closing the door.  
  
"Yeah," he whispered before collapsing to the floor.  
  
She flicked on the overhead light to examine him better. "Oh, Vachon!" she exclaimed when she saw the full extent of his burns. Half of his face, his hands were scalded, erupting with boils. "What happened?"  
  
"Guess my carriage turns into a pumpkin at the stroke of six. You want to be my fairy godmother?" he grinned until a wave of pain shot through him causing him to grimace.  
  
She knelt down beside him and brushed a stray strand of hair out of his face. "You're wounds, they'll heal won't they? They'll heal fast like before?" she asked with concern.  
  
"Yeah, they'll heal. But that doesn't help any with the pain now."  
  
"It hurts?" she questioned. She didn't know why, but she had never really thought of him experiencing pain the way that humans did.  
  
"Yeah," he doubled over with a hidden pain, "it HURTS, Trace," he grunted.  
  
She delicately placed her hand on his back and tried to soothe him. She kissed his hair. "I'm sorry," she whispered, "Of course it hurts. What a stupid thing for me to ask, huh?" He didn't respond. "I'll be right back, I'll see if I can find something to help with the burns."  
  
She rushed out trying to let in as little light as possible. She returned carrying spray bottles and a couple of tubes of cream. "I don't know if any of this will work, but it's worth a try, right?"  
  
He nodded, "Thanks, Trace."  
  
The bottle hissed as she gently took his hand into hers and covered it with the soothing spray. She waited a moment for the medication to take effect, in the meantime she tenderly coddled his abused body. "I . . . I think that helped," he whispered.  
  
"It's benzacaine. It'll take the edge off the pain for a little while, until you can heal." Satisfied that she could help him in even a small way, she sprayed the other hand. "Sorry, I can't spray your face," she commented, " and I'm afraid to even touch the burns to try one of the creams."  
  
"It's okay," he smiled again. "Certainly can't hurt as bad as our first date when I was missing a limb. You did a pretty good job of taking care of me that night."  
  
She smiled, too. "Date, huh? That's not EXACTLY how I remember it, Romeo." She elbowed him tauntingly in the chest. He howled in pain. "Are you burnt there, too?" she ripped back his shirt. Her hand jumped backward once it revealed the source of his pain. A large cross was scorched across his chest. His muscled twitched under the searing pain of that particular mark. "Vachon, what happened?"  
  
"Someone REALLY didn't want me to bite her."  
  
"You were going to . . . you were going to kill her?" she asked in horror.  
  
Ashamed, Vachon turned his gaze away from her to the floor. " I have to eat, Tracy." The lump in his throat threatened to cut off all sound.  
  
"But you . . . you came HERE after trying to KILL a girl. Here I was feeling sorry for you and . . . you just tried to KILL someone!" The way she punctuated KILL burnt the cross deeper and deeper into Vachon's chest until it felt like she had seared the pain into his very heart.  
  
"It wasn't like that, Trace," he verbalized in a nearly inaudible tone. "She wasn't a good person, she . . . I try to only kill the evil people like my maker commanded. I'm trying . . ."  
  
"It doesn't really matter, Vachon, you were going to MURDER her . . ."  
  
"Tracy, please," he begged. He reached up to turn her face to look at him, so she could see his intense pain and torment. If only she would look at him, she would see how much feeding on humans tore him up inside. But it was a necessity. He did HAVE to eat.  
  
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" she screamed. Before he could utter another sound she was gone leaving only the sound of the slamming closet door to reverberate in his mind.  
  
"Tracy," he whispered as the tears trickled down his face.  
  
********  
  
Left alone, a cage of daylight imprisoning him in her closet, Vachon let himself cry freely. He didn't enjoy killing, but it was a necessity for him. He had never really questioned his right to feed before, but now . . . he would starve to death if that's what Tracy wanted. And look at him, he was crying like a baby. He didn't cry. 500 years of grotesque horror all around him, and he didn't cry. He wasn't suppose to be the angsty one, that was Nick's job. But, was this what it took to break him--to truly love a mortal?  
  
In truth, he knew what it was. She had seen him, realized what he really was and was disgusted. Sure, he had told her that he was a vampire, she'd seen him in vampire form before, but she hadn't realized the full implications of that. Tonight, she saw him for what he was--a murdering monster. And her rejection hurt worse than any physical wound he had ever received.  
  
He wanted to scratch a hole in his chest clear through to his heart, but the cross burnt across him prevented that. "This," he whispered to himself, "is just the beginning of my punishment for hurting Tracy." He pressed down on the cross until tears of pure blood filled his eyes. He collapsed to the floor and cried into her shoes.  
  
********  
  
The door opened spilling light into the closet. Instinctively, Vachon covered his head, but it didn't burn.  
  
"Vachon?" Tracy peaked her head in. "I covered the windows with aluminum foil so that you could come into the bedroom. Is this okay?"  
  
He nodded. "Despite how much she must hate me, she still doesn't have the heart to keep me locked up in here," he thought to himself. "It's great," he whispered turning to face her, not bothering to hide the red streaks trailing down his cheeks. Concern flashed across her face as she dropped to his side. She delicately traced the tear marks with the slightest caress of her fingers.  
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I know I had no right to come here, to impose this upon you, but you're apartment was the closest, and . . . I'm sorry . . ."  
  
"Shhh, I'm glad you came to me." She kissed the top of his head, "and I'm sorry, for what I said earlier . . . about you being a killer."  
  
"I am a killer, Tracy. That's what I am," his voice was firm.  
  
She forced the mound in her throat down with a deep swallow. She had to say this: "I don't care! . . . I know I should, that I should be disgusted and, and furious, but . . . when I was out there, all I could think about was you, and how bad you were hurt, and wanting to help you. I . . . I love you!"  
  
Vachon's head cried for him to explain to her why she must care, why this was so wrong, but he followed his heart and fell into her warm embrace. His body shook with deep soul-wrenching sobs, "I love you."  
  
She petted his hair, whispered reassurances in his ear, and entwined her entire body around him until he had cleansed the pain. "Shhh, come on, you need to rest. Let's get you to bed."  
  
He still required help standing up and getting to the bed. He laughed at how ridiculous he must look in her pink frilly sheets.  
  
"Vachon?" she whispered with concern. "Why haven't these healed yet?"  
  
He lowered his head and turned away from her.  
  
"They, they should have healed by now, right? Why aren't they getting better?"  
  
"Because I'm hungry," he breathed. He forced himself to look her in the eye, to be up front with her, and speak clearly "There's been a shortage at the Red Cross lately because of the flu epidemic. That's where I've always stolen my supply from. I . . . I haven't eaten in almost a week. I'm starving . . ." his voice trailed off again.  
  
"That's why you went after that person tonight?" she questioned. He nodded, clearly in pain at thought of discussing that issue any further. "And, you can't heal unless you . . . nourish your body again."  
  
"Bingo."  
  
She kissed his forehead and presented him with her wrist. "Drink," she commanded.  
  
"No!" he shoved her arm away.  
  
"It's okay, Vachon. I want you to. Just enough to tide you over until we can get some more."  
  
"I won't FEED off you, Tracy!"  
  
"Vachon, you're hurt. You said it yourself, you have to eat. I promise, I'll steal you some from the morgue later tonight, but you need nourishment now. It won't hurt me, Vachon. It's just like donating blood . . ."  
  
"No," he cried weakly.  
  
Again, she placed her wrist right in front of his mouth. "Just like giving blood . . ."  
  
He grimaced, forcing more tears out. His eyes popped open releasing their glowing amber right before he bore his fangs and bit into her.  
  
For Tracy, the experience was unimaginable. The first twinge of pain was quickly replaced with indescribable ecstasy. She felt her blood, no her life-force leaving her, nourishing him. As she felt her own warmth leaving her, she felt herself being drawn deeper and deeper into him. Her head rolled back, plummeting herself further and further into his eternal coldness. She desired this more than anything, for him to drink more and more until---  
  
"NO!!!" His scream brought her out of his mesmerism. He had shoved her away so that he would stop feeding, and now he was lying back, panting against the headboard. She turned her head and realized, that she, too, was lying down. Blood poured from her wrist, spurting deep crimson stains into the bedspread. She stared at them with intrigue as her blood flooded the sheets and the room began to spin.  
  
"No, Tracy!" She became aware of his presence on top of her. "Tracy, Tracy, No! NO!" He was shaking her.  
  
Her eyes fluttered open and she gave him a coy smile. "Vachon . . ."  
  
He breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm here, Tracy. Don't you leave me." He quickly focused his attention on her wrist.  
  
"Vachon . . ." her distant voice called. She grabbed him with her good arm until his concerned blue eyes met hers. She flashed another smile, "Was I any good?"  
  
********  
  
Tracy pulled herself out of the deep abyss of sleep. Gradually, she became aware of Vachon's sleeping body beneath her, his arms wrapped around her. Memories of the morning flooded over her, and a quick glance at her wrist confirmed that it had not been a dream. The wrist was securely wrapped in gauze, although two distinct dots of blood showed through the many layers. Vachon must have braved the daylight to get to the first aid kit in her bathroom. She shifted slightly to examine his face and chest. There were no signs of the earlier burns or any new ones; her blood had healed him. She did, however, notice that his chest was much more muscular this close, and she indulged her impulse to caress those muscles.  
  
"Mmmm, You're awake."  
  
"Yeah, I'm awake," she blushed a little at being caught petting him.  
  
"You gave me quite a scare there, Tracy Vetter." His blue eyes held her in a trance; no words were needed to describe their longing for each other. She leant in to kiss him . . . "Come on," he sat up, breaking the spell. "Do you feel well enough to go to work?"  
  
"Work," she groaned, shaking herself back into reality, "What time is it?"  
  
"Umm, 'bout 9:30."  
  
"Shit!" She was pretty sure that 'I needed to feed my vampire' was not an acceptable excuse for being late to work.  
  
********  
  
"Look who finally decided to show up to work," Nick taunted with a grin.  
  
"I'm sorry, I . . . I overslept," Tracy explained.  
  
Her partner smiled even more at her explanation. "Don't worry, I covered with the captain for you. Ready to get started on a new case?" he asked indicating his computer screen.  
  
"Yeah, what have you got?" she asked while reaching for his mouse to scroll down, awkwardly using her other hand.  
  
"Uh Trace, wouldn't that be easier with the correct hand?" Nick asked as she swore under her breath again at the disobedient device.  
  
"If I can shoot with either hand, then I should be able to move a simple mouse with both!" she retorted. It made sense, really, but it's not like she could tell him the real reason.  
  
"OK, how about I print this out, then we could both read it?" Nick looked at her hopefully. Anything to get her off his computer!  
  
Tracy sighed in disgust, "It would be easier. And at least I could write on it if I needed to." She waited for the printer to whir, obediently spitting out the requested pages. Nick tapped them square, then handed them to her. Tracy automatically reached for them without thinking, and about jumped out of her skin as he grabbed her hand.  
  
"What happened to your wrist?"  
  
"Oh, nothing, just cut myself making a salad . . . You know, those big knives can really get away from you . . ."  
  
"Hmm, let me have a look," he turned her wrist to get a good look and began to unwind the gauze.  
  
"No!" she jerked her wrist away. "Really, it's nothing. Just, just a scratch."  
  
"Well, at least let Natalie have a look at it. It could be infected."  
  
"Natalie, what do you think I'm dead?" The hollow chuckling of her own fake laugh was the only response the joke received. "On second thought, maybe going to see Natalie wouldn't be such a bad idea. You okay on your own for a while?"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, go see Nat." He waited until she was near the door and whispered, "We'll see what she thinks of those bite marks."  
  
********  
  
Vachon sensed the presence in the church; he knew immediately that it was a vampire. "Who's there? Show yourself." His eyes dashed back and forth across the periphery looking for the figure he knew was there. Before Vachon caught the slightest glimpse of the assailant, he was slammed against a pillar. His throat was chocked with a clawed grip. "Nick?"  
  
"I told you to PROTECT her," he growled.  
  
Vachon's eyes swelled upon recognition of the reason for this unfriendly visit. He quickly tried to explain. "Nick, it wasn't like that. I didn't just BITE her . . ." Nick's anger surged, propelling both men into the air. Vachon tried to fight back and push Nick off of him, but Nick's insurmountable strength kept Vachon pinned to the column. "She offered herself, because I was STARVING . . . "  
  
"You're FEEDING off of her!"  
  
Getting tired of this, Vachon retorted, "Free consent, freely given. And she's MY problem! We're adults Nick, not adolescents groping in the back of a car . . . I was injured, it was dawn, and her place was closest. She could have let me stay in that closet until sunset, but she didn't. She freely gave..." He suddenly stopped as all airflow was cut off by Nick's hand on his throat.  
  
"You . had . no . right!" He punctuated each word with a shake, almost snapping the younger vampire's neck and leaving bone-deep bruises  
  
Vachon resigned himself. There was no point in attempting to fight a vampire that was so much older, and there was no point in trying to explain what had happened between them. Besides, maybe Nick was right; maybe he deserved to be punished for biting Tracy. "I would never hurt her," he whispered.  
  
"LIAR!!!" Nick hammered Vachon's head back against the stone pillar with enough force to crack any mortal's skull.  
  
"Vachon?" the sweet sound of Tracy's call echoed through the church.  
  
"I'm watching," Nick growled before throwing his prey like a ragdoll to the floor.  
  
Paralyzed with the agonizing pain that crept across his body after impact, Vachon scanned the rafters for the intruder. Out of sight, but certainly not out of mind, Vachon focused on forcing his muscles into motion. He had to get up before Tracy found him plastered against the floor.  
  
"There you are," she greeted with her all-too-perky smile. Noticing his unusual demeanor, she asked "What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing, nothing . . . I'm fine," he lied.  
  
Mentally blaming hunger for the odd behavior, she decided to ignore it. "I brought you something." She proudly handed Vachon two bags of blood. "I don't think Natalie will miss them."  
  
"Thanks," he whispered, with a dejected look in his eyes, he stared blankly at the bags.  
  
"What? Don't tell me I got the wrong type . . ."  
  
"No, no, it's perfect," he forced a phony smile for her. "I just . . . don't feel right, having you get this for me."  
  
"Vachon . . ."  
  
He put a finger to her lips to silence her. "Tracy, I am a monster, and you're . . . you're like a beautiful fairy to me, but . . . just having you steal for me taints you. I can't bear the thought of darkening you."  
  
"A fairy?" she questioned with a smile.  
  
"Okay, well maybe not a fairy," his smile was genuine this time, but quickly returned to its former countenance. "You know what I mean."  
  
"No, I don't," she stated firmly. She inched her body closer and closer to his until their faces were inches apart. She cupped his face in her hands, "I LOVE you, and you love me. We both want more than anything to be together, and I won't let anything: vampire, fairy, sunlight, life, or death get in the way of that."  
  
He kissed her madly, passionately, as if a whole eternity of loneliness was abated by that one kiss. For mere moments it appeared that they would lose themselves forever into each other, but he abruptly terminated their soulful communion. "Not here," he cried, pulling her into a strong embrace. He caught himself before mentioning her prying partner above them. "Just please, not here," he begged.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"You're place, soon," he whispered. His body ached for one more taste of her lips, but he settled instead for one more breath of the enticing aroma of her hair. "I'll feed, and then, I'll be over."  
  
She had to kiss him one more time. Soon seemed like forever without him. "I'll be waiting," she called as she exited the church, leaving Vachon to whatever punishment Nick had in mind. 


End file.
